


Truth Be Told

by Lyricoloratura



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alien Culture, Angst, First Time, M/M, Romance, Truth Serum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-30
Updated: 2012-06-30
Packaged: 2017-11-08 20:51:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/447428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyricoloratura/pseuds/Lyricoloratura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they were obliged to take their host's truth serum, neither Jim nor Spock had considered what kind of "truth" they might reveal to one another - or to themselves.  An already interesting away mission goes far differently than planned...!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which the “Captain and First Really Shouldn’t Be on the Same Away Mission” Advice is Ignored.  Again.

Vulcans do not dream.

They do not, as Terrans like to call their periods of mental diversion, _daydream_.

They most certainly do not _fantasize_.

Spock knew this – he had spent far too many years being trained in all the Vulcan mental disciplines to think otherwise.

Therefore, what was currently going on in his mind could only be blamed on his human half…

…and on Jim Kirk.

To be fair, the captain had not intentionally caused Spock to feel this distress.

_Is “distress” the appropriate term for these sensations?_  

He had no idea; they were so utterly foreign to Spock that he barely knew how to classify them.

Fortunately, Jim was unaware of the circumstances that have created this… situation.  Spock was glad of this. 

Truly.  He was. 

The unaccustomed voice in his mind that seemed to wish to argue this point with him was firmly ignored – especially since this argumentative voice was urging him to go to Jim, speak with him.  _Now._

And for the past 3.4 days, since their return from the Siri Prime, Spock had managed to avoid doing exactly that; he was not sure how much more time he would require before he could interact with Jim with any degree of composure.

_If the past few days are any indication_ , he mused, _it might be quite a while…_

~o0o~

As a general rule, Spock and Kirk tended to ignore the “Captain and First Really Shouldn’t Be on the Same Away Mission” advice that Starfleet gave their command teams.  After all, they weren’t actually disobeying an order – they were simply disregarding a suggestion.

In this particular case, neither Jim nor Spock had wanted to miss the opportunity to be part of the first Federation team to actually see the Tuhuma – the inhabitants of Siri Prime that had, until quite recently, been considered to be mythological creatures and not actual living beings.  So skilled were the Tuhuma at concealing themselves that centuries had passed without them having been seen by any outsiders at all – and scientific observers had concurred that the species, if it had ever existed at all, had long since died off.

Then had come a new breakthrough in sensor technology – and the astonishing revelation that in fact the Tuhuma had been right there on Siri Prime all the time.  They actually had what seemed to be a thriving – albeit somewhat primitive by Federation standards – civilization, and a population that numbered well into the millions.

Starfleet had managed to make contact with the newly-discovered civilization – and that had been no easy feat, considering that their language was unlike any that current Federation databases could decipher.  The best linguists back on Earth had been nearly given up hope of being able to understand the way these beings communicated – and then a young lieutenant on a starship in the middle of deep space read about their difficulties in a professional journal, and made it her new hobby to try to crack the code of the Tuhuma. 

The linguists would have been utterly scandalized by the fact that this young officer managed, in six months of her spare time, to find a solution that had eluded all of them for three years – except, as it turned out, several of them had been responsible for her training, so they could find some way to salvage their wounded professional pride.

And after all, it wasn’t often that one ran across a natural gift for languages like Nyota Uhura’s.  Her professors at the Institute for Advanced Linguistic Studies in Alexandria had often lamented her decision to go to Starfleet Academy instead of remaining with them – it had been a waste of her training and talent.

But now, it was Lieutenant Uhura’s very presence on a Federation starship that made the Enterprise the most likely choice to be the first emissary to this fascinating race; the flagship of the ‘Fleet was no stranger to such diplomatic missions, and their Communications officer would be eminently qualified to help them make the initial contact with the Tuhuma.

~o0o~

“Tell me again why you both are coming along?  It seems reasonable for Jim to be there – he’s the commanding officer, and that’s usually who we send on these big-deal diplomatic missions.  But you’re always the first to jump his ass about Starfleet regulations and not sending the two of you on the same away mission – so, what’s going on with that, Spock?”

“First of all, Nyota, I certainly do not, as you put it, ‘jump Jim’s ass,’ as you are well aware.  It is simply my responsibility to make sure that Jim is always cognizant of any and all regulations that may affect a given mission.” 

Spock had what Nyota liked to refer to as his “professor voice” going on – and she knew what he was trying to pull.  They were still good friends, even though it had been over a year since she’d figured out that there was no scenario in which their romantic relationship was going to end well, and had called it off before too much collateral damage was done.  And she knew Spock was doing his damnedest not to answer her question.

“Of course, Spock.  I get it.  Jim’s ass is safe from you.”  She smirked to herself at that, suspecting as she did that if Spock were even remotely in touch with his own feelings, such would emphatically _not_ be the case. 

“But you didn’t answer the first question – why both of you?  For that matter, both of you, Scott and Chekov, in addition to me and Giotto?  Isn’t that leaving the ship without a decent chunk of its Command crew?”

“I do see your point, Nyota – but there are any number of amply qualified officers who will remain on board, and the captain has every confidence in Mr. Sulu’s ability to, as he puts it, ‘mind the store’ in our absence as we orbit Siri Prime.”

 He drew a long breath, letting it out slowly.  “Moreover, you must be aware that the opportunity to meet the Tuhuma is a very great privilege.  It is my understanding that Jim chose the members of the landing party based not only on their specific skill sets, but as an unofficial reward of sorts for exceptional performance while on duty.”

Nyota smiled.  “That sounds like something Jim would do.  But… if that’s the case, then why not Hikaru?”  She could hear the defensive tone rising in her own voice; it was silly, she knew, but Hikaru was one of her dearest friends, and she didn’t like to think of him being slighted.

Spock nodded; he knew Nyota nearly as well as Nyota knew him, and her indignation on the part of her friend was no more than he would have expected of her.

“Hikaru remains behind at his own request, Nyota.  He realized that either he or Pavel would have to stay behind with the ship – and he did not wish for Pavel to be denied the opportunity to take part in the mission.  Therefore, he spoke to the captain last week, expressing his desire to be excluded from consideration for the landing party.  I believe this came as a relief to Jim, who was not looking forward to making a choice between the two of them.”

“What about McCoy?  He’s willing to let Jim go down there without him?”

“He would rather not,” Spock replied, “but there are several patients in Sickbay right now who require special attention – and as Dr. M’Benga is recovering from an illness himself, Dr. McCoy feels that he needs to be aboard the _Enterprise_.  He is, however, sending along any number of medications with me, as well as a tricorder that is pre-loaded with all of Jim’s pertinent medical data.”

“So you’ll be babysitting the captain on this mission – I wish you better luck with that than McCoy usually has.”  Smiling wryly, she shook her head.  “That man seems to be able to attract trouble – or at least allergens – like nobody I’ve ever met.”

“I would hardly describe my responsibilities as ‘babysitting,’ Nyota – and I would advise you to refrain from using that term around the captain, as he finds it highly objectionable.”

She broke into a laugh then.  “People have actually said that in _front_ of him?”

Nyota was surprised to note that Spock was very close to smiling.  “Doctor McCoy said it to Jim only this afternoon.  I believe his exact words were, ‘I’m putting the hobgoblin in charge of babysitting your crazy ass down there, so you behave and do what he tells you, you hear?’” 

Somehow, Spock managed to sound so much like McCoy just then that Nyota burst into a fit of giggling. 

“I am sure you can imagine Jim’s reaction,” Spock continued with a resigned shake of his head, “and I am equally certain that you can imagine the difficulty I will have in getting him to exercise any kind of caution after such an injunction from the doctor.”

“Well, with any luck, it won’t be an issue.  He won’t be able to say anything offensive – even if he wanted to for some reason – because I’ll be doing all the communicating. “ 

Nyota’s perfect eyebrows drew closer together in a vaguely anxious expression; although she would never admit as much, Spock knew that Nyota was worried about the immense responsibility that would be hers on this mission.

In an uncharacteristically affectionate gesture, Spock laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.  “And you will do so admirably; I know this.  After all, you are currently the Federation’s foremost expert on the language of the Tuhuma – no one is better qualified to coordinate communications for the party making this first diplomatic visit.”

Nyota smiled gratefully.  “You’re the best, Spock – you know that?  I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Recognizing Nyota’s turn of phrase as a well-worn Terran cliché and not a statement of fact (since Spock had little doubt that she would know exactly what to do without him), he chose not to reply, but changed the subject instead.

“I will take my leave, Nyota; remember that we will be beaming down to the planet at nightfall, which will take place —”

“I know, Spock.  It will take place at 19:37 ship’s time.  I’ll be in the transporter room ready to go, don’t worry.”

~o0o~


	2. In Which Things Start to Go Pear-Shaped

“Here I thought I’d seen just about everything – but this?  Damn, this is amazing.”  Jim’s voice held a hint of awe – something Spock had not heard from him in a while.  It had, in fact, been quite some time since the Enterprise had been given a mission that was so…

_…”Fascinating” was really the only term for it._

“Indeed, Jim.”  The area of Siri Prime on which they had landed was, in fact, extraordinarily beautiful – for once, Spock completely understood Jim’s enthusiasm.  The plant life was nothing short of astonishing in its variety and abundance, as well as the vividness of its color – and they had yet to meet the sentient inhabitants of the planet.

“I wish Hikaru could be here to see these plants – he’d be going crazy looking at all these new specimens,” Chekov said regretfully.  “It should be him and not me who came to the surface.”

“Enough of that, Ensign.”  Jim’s words were dismissive, but his tone was friendly.  “I’ll put you in charge of documenting as much of the flora down here as possible – so get to it with that camera and tricorder, and you’ll have lots of data to take back to our favorite botanist.”

Pavel’s smile was back again immediately.  “Yes, sir.”  He was off like a flash, then, obeying the captain’s latest order.

“Uhura – when you spoke to their… what was it you called it?”

“The leader?  Close as I can get to pronouncing it for you is _Kiofalme_ , Captain.  The actual Tuhuma language isn’t really set up for a humanoid’s vocal apparatus.”

Kirk smiled wryly at his Communications officer.  “But you’ve managed, haven’t you?  Anyway – when you spoke to the Kiofalme, when and where did they say they’d meet us?”

“They were extremely vague, Captain.  I get the impression they’re highly suspicious of outsiders – which is obvious, I suppose, seeing as how they managed to hide themselves from pretty much the entire universe for centuries – but they did give us these specific coordinates and told us to get here at nightfall.  Then we were to wait here for them – like I said, vague, but it’s the best I could get from them.”

“Well, then, it’s going to have to do, won’t it?”  Jim looked around at the assembled landing party.  “Make yourselves comfortable, kids – because now, we wait.”

Kirk smiled tightly – the expression that his first officer recognized as the captain trying to conceal feelings of anxiety from his crew members.  Spock did not know how well it worked for the others, but he always saw right through Jim’s ruse. 

They had certainly had far more delicate and demanding diplomatic missions than this one.

Moreover, it seemed plain that the Tuhuma were a peaceful and possibly even a timid race – certainly not a threat to the technologically advanced crew of the _Enterprise_.

The captain had moved to stand immediately next to Spock, and sighed quietly.

“It’s the ones that don’t look like they’re going to be that big of a deal, Spock – those are the ones that freak me out a little, because I know I’ve got to expect _something_ , but I don’t know what.”

Jim’s words actually caused Spock to start slightly; for the briefest of moments, he wondered if he had spoken his last thoughts aloud – but he was certain that he had not. 

Evidently, Jim could see through Spock as well.

“Keptin!”  Chekov’s excited voice broke the brief silence.  “Look!”

No one would know what Pavel had seen, however – because at that very moment, complete darkness descended upon the little glade in which they had assembled.  Not, Spock noted, the kind of darkness that comes in the dead of night on a planet with no moons, but the complete absence of light. 

He heard several quiet gasps of surprise from his colleagues – and found himself reaching out to grasp Jim’s arm preemptively; it seemed that such unexpected events resulted in the captain disappearing or otherwise coming to harm in entirely too many cases.  Jim, to Spock’s surprise, had reached out to place a hand on his own shoulder at precisely the same moment.

Sound came through the darkness then – nothing that sounded like intentional communication, but a different sound than had previously surrounded them. 

“Ever seen Venetian blinds, Spock?”  The tone of Jim’s whispered words was oddly conversational, considering the unusual circumstances.

Spock shook his head in negation, before realizing that the gesture could not be seen.  “I have not, Jim,” he whispered in return.

“That’s what this sounds like – like somebody left the window open at my great-grandma’s house before a thunderstorm, and the blinds are blowing in the wind.”

Before Spock had a chance to comment upon this observation – though he scarcely knew what he might say to such a seemingly random remark – the faint light of Uhura’s communicator cast a pale glow among them, and she began to use the device to generate sounds that were eerily similar to those that they had just heard.

“Those Venetian blinds – those were the _Tuhuma_?  Holy shit – no wonder nobody could break the code.”  Jim’s voice held some  surprise and a great deal of admiration.  “Well, except for Uhura.  But then again, she’s on a level of her own.”

The Communications officer in question shot a warning glare in her captain’s direction – Jim was no expert, but even he could read “shut up” in her expression, and instead watched her work in silence.  After what seemed like a long time – but was probably only a matter of a minute or so – Uhura moved cautiously through the darkness to where Kirk and Spock stood.

“They want the two of you first,” she whispered, “ without the rest of us.” 

“Are they telling you why?  What do they want with me and Spock that they don’t want with the rest of the landing party?  And how the hell are we going to communicate with them if we don’t have you?”

They say it’s nothing to be concerned about – that they simply want to deal with our leaders, and to determine from you what our intentions are.”

“And did the Tuhuma offer any explanation, Lieutenant, as to how they would communicate with the captain and myself?”  Spock had been a professor of xenolinguistics at Starfleet Academy, but he knew that there was no way that he could even begin to understand the series of sounds which the Tuhuma seemed to use for a language.

“You only now learn to understand us.”  The words sounded almost more like a breeze than a voice – and seemed suddenly to come from everywhere around them at once.  “This does not mean that we have not learned to understand you.  We have your language, Outworlder.”

“Very well.”  Jim took a step forward, as if to address the unseen presence who spoke to them.  “You have our language – and you wish to speak first to my first officer and myself. “

“It is as you say.”  There was a brief pause as the odd, foreign clicking sounds came across the clearing again.  “You will come with us?”

In the scant light of Nyota’s communicator screen, Spock saw Jim nod resolutely.  “There is no need to speak to both of us.  I will come with you.”

Of course – Spock realized that he should have expected that.  Jim was not about to place Spock in danger, though he had no problem taking such a risk himself.  However, Jim should have known better than to think that he would get away with such a ploy.

“As will I,” Spock stated bluntly, not relinquishing his hold on Jim’s arm.

Jim would likely have argued that point – but they were not given the opportunity.  An odd sensation – not unlike that produced by teleportation – swept over them before Spock had even finished his sentence, and in the next breath, the two of them found that their surroundings had changed dramatically. 

Where they had been in something resembling a forest a moment ago, they were now in a huge chamber with towering ceilings and brilliantly-colored light streaming in through walls made of some sort of translucent material.  Still, none of the Tuhuma was visible, and for a moment they thought that they might be alone in this immense room.

“Pay respect, Outworlders,” the strange breeze-voice surrounded them again.  “You are in the presence of Kiofalme.”

As no one had given them any insight as to how the Tuhuma might interpret gestures of respect – and experience had shown Kirk that what was respectful in one culture could be interpreted as obscene in another – he simply bowed his head.

“On behalf of the United Federation of Planets,” he intoned solemnly, “we extend our most respectful greetings to Kiofalme and all the Tuhuma.”

“Very good, Captain.”  This was a new voice, somehow more substantial than the one they’d heard previously – and it held more than a hint of what might have been amusement.  “We welcome you and your first officer to our home.” 

“And the rest of my crew?  I assume they are safe – can you tell me what is being done with them?”

This voice seemed to quiver with something like laughter.  “You are like Kiofalme, Captain.  Your concern is for your children.  Please know that they are safe – they are elsewhere in the palace with my own daughters, and will join us later for our ceremonial meal of greeting.  Meanwhile, we must get to know one another.”

A flash of light caused both Kirk and Spock to squeeze their eyes shut reflexively – and when they looked again, a tall figure stood before them.

“Am Kiofalme, Captain.  It is pleasant to meet an Outworlder again after so much time has passed.”

Kiofalme, the leader of the Tuhuma, looked like nothing either Kirk or Spock could recall having seen before.  He (or possibly she – there was really no way of telling) resembled nothing so much as a very slightly corporeal beam of light, made of many of the same vivid colors that streamed in through the walls. 

With a sudden surprised intake of breath, Jim looked around at those beams of light once more – and saw that they had moved. 

Now there was no doubt that Kiofalme was laughing at him.  “You have just realized, Captain, that you are in the presence of many of my sons.”  The breeze-voices surged around them again – with a distinct suggestion that Kiofalme’s sons found Jim’s surprise to be pretty damned funny, too.

Good thing for him that it was certainly not the first time Jim Kirk had the been a source of amusement to a group of random aliens – and better still that he did not take himself or his own personal dignity particularly seriously.  With a smile, he bowed again to the now-visible Kiofalme.

“Indeed, Kiofalme.”  He looked around the room at the beams of light that were the ruler’s  “sons” – he didn’t know whether they were literally Kiofalme’s offspring or whether that was a figure of speech – and bowed again slightly.  “And Commander Spock and I thank all of you for your welcome.”

“Captain, you are most gracious.”  Kiofalme shimmered slightly in Jim’s direction.  “And you have wondered, I know, why it is that we have separated the group’s leaders from the rest.  Permit me to explain – and to tell you what is to happen to you this evening before we rejoin the remainder of your crew.”

It probably wouldn’t be all that bad.

“First, we will provide you with ceremonial garments.”

 Spock wondered at the idea of “garments” for a race of being that certainly had no need of any kind of clothing themselves – and hoped most fervently that the Tuhuma did not expect either Jim or himself to remove their own uniforms and to go uncovered.  He knew that Jim had been required to do so on other diplomatic missions – he had never witnessed this himself, though he had certainly heard the stories afterward – but Spock did not have the degree of confidence that Jim possessed.  There was no way that he could go naked – regardless of the diplomatic repercussions.

“Do not be concerned, Commander Spock.”  Kiofalme addressed him directly for the first time.  “Your modesty becomes you – and we would not violate it.  Though you might not think that we would require garments – and we do not in our current form – at most times, we take on a more material nature, and at those times we do indeed cover ourselves in a manner not unlike yourselves.”

“You are not always as you appear now?”  Spock, intrigued by the idea of a species that could change its actual state of matter, found himself asking the question without thinking.  “Fascinating.”

The breeze-voices fluttered again in what they now recognized as laughter – and out of the corner of his eye, Spock saw Jim fighting back a smile. 

 _Fair enough_ , he thought.  _For once it is not Jim who is amusing the aliens_.

“So, gentlemen.  If you will please to follow my son Iniwa – the light beam that was Kiofalme shifted slightly to indicate another shaft of vivid blue light that was approaching them both – you may receive your garments, make the rest of your preparations and join us again shortly.  At that time, we will be able to more fully understand your intentions toward our people, and we can go on from there.”

With a glance over his shoulder at Spock, he walked behind Iniwa out of the chamber and into a much dimmer hallway.

“This should be more to your liking.”  Jim recognized Iniwa’s voice as the one that had greeted them before in the darkness, and turned to look at him again.

The being that stood before them now was as different from the insubstantial flickers of light in the chamber as – _well_ , Jim thought, _as night from day_. 

Now that they had moved into the darkness, Iniwa’s form had changed completely; his skin was still the same iridescent blue that he had possessed a moment ago, but now it was skin – he had a body.  He was mostly humanoid in shape – he stood upright on two legs, and had two sets of arms in addition to a pair of wings that were currently folded at his back.  Iniwa was easily a foot or more taller than either Jim or Spock, and had a proud, almost hawk-like visage with a tall plume of what looked to be something like feathers in an even more brilliant shade of blue.

“This, Commander Spock, is how we normally show ourselves.  The display that you saw from us in my mother’s grand chamber was what we typically show our guests upon first meeting.”  Iniwa tilted his head in an almost conspiratorial fashion.  “She thinks it is more impressive, and we would never presume to argue with her.”

“So,” Iniwa’s more casual manner emboldened Jim to ask a question that had been nagging at him.  “Kiofalme is really your mother?”

Iniwa laughed aloud, even as he continued to walk down the hall.  “She is everyone’s mother, Captain.  Kiofalme has existed since before our earliest memories – and is responsible for the lives of everyone on this planet.” 

Without warning, his expression darkened suddenly, and his voice dropped.  “She is the mother of _everyone_ on this planet – even our enemies, the Kuchu, who have sought to destroy us for centuries and who have driven us into this existence of half-hiding.  It is… humiliating to hide from an enemy, Captain – you are a man of honor, and I am sure you realize this.”

If they were all related, what was causing the Kuchu to want to destroy the Tuhuma?   There had to be some serious back story there.

 And if the Federation had managed to find the Tuhuma, could the Kuchu be far behind?

They had reached a door, which Iniwa pulled open to reveal a small room.  “Excuse me for a moment, Captain, Commander.”  He looked speculatively at them both, as if measuring them with his eyes.  “I will return momentarily with your garments.”  With a brief nod, he slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him.

“So, Spock – what do you think of them so far?”  As always, Jim was eager to hear Spock’s perspective – it was always just different enough from his own that it gave him something new to think about.

“As you can imagine, Captain, I find the Tuhuma to be completely fascinating.  And I am sure that we share a great deal of curiosity as to what has prompted the state of enmity between the Tuhuma and the Kuchu.”

“Yeah – that’s bound to be quite the story.  Wonder if we’ll hear it?”  Jim paused, looking around the sparsely-furnished room.  “And I wonder exactly what’s going to be expected of us at this dinner?  Kiofalme was talking about being able to ‘more fully understand’ our intentions – and I’d be lying to you if I said that wasn’t making me a little nervous.  It just sounds like there’s something she’s not saying.”

“It is possible, Jim – though I did not get that impression.  However, I would be the first to say that you have the ability to read the unspoken signals of others much more effectively than I have ever been able to do.”  He tilted his head with what was almost a smile.  “I have often thought that had you chosen to concentrate in that area, you would have been a highly skilled Communications specialist.”

Jim smiled somewhat embarrassedly.  “So – you think I wasted my talent, Spock?”

“I never said that, Jim.  In fact, I believe that any career path but that of Command would have been a waste of your abilities.  I simply meant…”

“I get it.”  Kirk waved a dismissive hand – and Spock noted with some surprise that the captain was now blushing slightly.  “I knew what you meant.  Thanks, anyway.”

Just then, the door swung open again, and Iniwa had reappeared with a bundle of fabric draped over one of his arms and a small bottle in one claw-like hand.  “I have your garments, and I have also brought the Waamini for you to consume before our dinner.”

Spock pulled himself even straighter than usual and took a step toward Iniwa.  “Pardon me, but what is the nature of this ‘Waamini?’  Is it required that we consume it?” 

McCoy’s words were echoing in his head:  “Don’t – not under _any_ circumstances – don’t let Jim eat or drink ANYTHING until you’ve been over it with that damn tricorder nine ways from Sunday.”  The discussion that had then ensued about the meaning of “nine ways from Sunday” was also not likely to leave Spock’s memory anytime soon – but that had been another story.

“The Waamini, Commander, is something that was always ask outworlders to drink when visiting us for the first time.  Anyone who drinks the Waamini is unable to speak dishonestly – which is vital to us in order for us to be able to trust you.”  Iniwa drew himself taller, as well.  “We will also consume it at our dinner – we would not insult you by expecting something from you which we would be unwilling to do ourselves.”

“Spock?”  Jim gestured toward the tricorder before turning to Iniwa, an apologetic look on his face.  “If you don’t mind, Commander Spock needs to analyze the Waamini with our instrument to make sure that it is safe for me to drink.” 

He quickly put up both hands in the universal gesture for “wait, let me finish” before continuing.  “Of course we don’t think you’re trying to poison us – but my system is very strange, even for a human.  I have something that we call allergic reactions, so that things that most humans can consume safely might make me very ill or even kill me.  That is why the commander has our tricorder.”

Iniwa looked at both of them with confusion – but not, Kirk noted gratefully, with suspicion.  “Do what you must, Commander,” he said, handing  the bottle to Spock , “but Captain, be aware that if you find that you cannot consume the Waamini, we must regretfully refuse you admission to our dinner of welcome.”

“Of course, I understand.”  Jim watched as Spock took his time doing what had to be at least twenty different tests on the liquid in the small bottle before he finally handed it back to Iniwa.

“Captain, it does not seem that any of the substances in this liquid are similar to any that have previously caused you distress.”  It looked very much, Jim thought, as though Spock really, _really_ didn’t want to say that – but couldn’t think of a good way out of it.

“So, you’re saying it looks safe?”  That in itself was a minor miracle.

“I am not saying anything of the kind, Captain.  I am saying that initial readings do not indicate that it is _un_ safe.”

Spock and his damn semantics.  “Duly noted, Commander.”

Kirk sighed, turning to Iniwa.  “How much of this would be considered the minimum effective dosage?  It looks like this stuff isn’t going to kill me, but I don’t want to tempt fate by drinking too much of it.”

Iniwa looked back and forth between the captain and his first officer as if trying to analyze what had just gone on between them.  “I understand your desire for caution, Captain,” he said – that hint of amusement back in his voice.  “I would suggest that you allow Commander Spock to consume two thirds of the Waamini, and that you consume the remaining third.”

“Will drinking that much of it harm Spock?”  Jim sounded distinctly upset.

“It will not, Captain,” Spock replied flatly.  “The tests that I performed indicated that the Waamini contains nothing that would be detrimental to my physiology.”

“But, Spock – what about everything else?  What about your telepathy… and, and all that other stuff you’ve got going on?  I’d have to think that some sort of crazy-ass truth serum  -- no offense, Iniwa – would mess you up something fierce.”

Jim was starting to get really concerned; if he had to pull rank and _order_ Spock not to drink the Waamini, he would – even if he knew it would piss him off like no other.  If he couldn’t go to the damn dinner, so be it; the crazy bastard needed protected from himself.

“Negative, Jim.  As you know, Vulcans are already predisposed to be truthful in all their interactions; therefore, a chemical that would compel me to be honest would have very little effect on me.”

“Therefore,” Spock said suddenly, as though he could tell what Jim was about to order him to do,  “there is no reason for me not to consume the Waamini at this time.”  Lifting the small container to his lips, he managed in one long gulp to drink precisely two thirds of what had been in the bottle before placing it neatly onto a small table nearby.

“ _Dammit_ , Spock.”  Jim spoke in what he hoped was a _sotto voce_ whisper.  “You _knew_ I was going to tell you not to do that.”

The first officer looked almost unbearably smug.  “On the contrary, Captain; you are well aware that I am not able to foresee the future, and therefore could not predict your actions.”

Kirk gritted his teeth; he’d long since learned not to insult Spock when he was angry, because nearly every good insult he knew would have meant casting aspersions upon his late mother – and hell, he was _angry_ , not _insane_.

“Fine.”  Still glaring at Spock, he picked the bottle up from the table top and proceeded to chug the remainder of the liquid inside.  He didn’t know what he’d expected it to taste like – but whatever he’d expected, it certainly wasn’t what he got.  Did gold have a taste?  Did light, or warmth?  Because crazily enough, it tasted like all those things at once – it tasted surprisingly good – and felt oddly soothing as it went down. 

Jim waited for something – he didn’t know what – to happen.  He waited to feel… _different_.

“The effects of the Waamini are not immediate,” Iniwa explained, sensing Kirk’s confusion. 

“Will it…” Jim wasn’t really sure what he wanted to ask.

“You will know, Captain, when it has taken effect.”  Iniwa took two long pieces of fabric off of the arm over which they had been draped, laying them on the same table.  “You may now change into your ceremonial garments – and once you have put them on, it will be time for me to return you to my mother’s chamber for our dinner.  You will be reunited at that time with the other members of your party at that time.” 

“If you were wondering,” he went on conversationally, “none of the other members of your crew will be required to drink the Waamini; that is a privilege and responsibility that is given only to the leaders of any newcomers who wish to be with us.  Your friends have been spending this time with my sisters, who have been showing them other parts of my mother’s home.  It is, as you can imagine, very beautiful.”

“You all have been most hospitable,” Jim said with an effort to be gracious.  “I’m sure my people have been enjoying their time with your sisters.”

Commander Spock, the other –“  he gestured toward a silvery dark-gray robe – “is for you.”  

He looked slightly amused at Spock’s discomfiture – answering the question that Spock had not yet asked.  “We require, Commander, that you remove your own clothing when putting on our garments.”

“All of our own clothing?”  This was killing Spock -- he really was such a damn prude – and if Jim weren’t still so pissed at him, he’d feel sorry for him.

“Yes, please.  You will find that no area of your body that is not already exposed will be left uncovered by this robe, I assure you – and I believe you will also discover that it is quite comfortable.”

“Of _course_ he will, Iniwa.” 

Jim decided to do whatever he damn well could to make Spock just that little bit more uncomfortable – because he was still really, really annoyed with him for drinking that potion before Jim could stop him – and began to unfasten the top of his dress uniform.  Spock was so damned modest  that he always freaked out a little whenever Jim was less than fully clothed – though, come to think of it, it didn’t seem to bother him when it was Scotty, or Sulu, or Bones… or actually, anybody else, for that matter.

 _Kinda weird, that  – not that it matters, though_.  Jim pulled off his black undershirt, grinning wickedly at Spock’s growing unease.

Iniwa seemed to notice the  growing tension between these two alien beings, and with some confusion obvious in his voice, backed toward the door.  “I will allow you privacy in order to change, and will return for you shortly.”  The door closed behind him again, leaving Jim and Spock alone once more.

“So, Spock?  Gonna go ahead and get into that robe?  Feels pretty good to get out of that Starfleet dress uniform, I’m not gonna lie.” 

Jim couldn’t honestly say what kind of a reaction he was hoping to get out of Spock right now – he was just mad, and frustrated, and worried – and randomly trying to push Spock’s buttons to see what would happen.  “Of course, pretty soon I’m _really_ not gonna lie, am I?  Won’t be able to, even if I might want to.  Then again, you know how that goes – since you were so damn eager to drink, oh, I don’t know – _twice as much_ of that Waamini shit as I did.”

“Captain.”  Spock’s voice was tense; he was probably more than a little upset himself.  “I would ask, please, that you collect yourself.  I gather that you are angry with me for having drunk the Waamini, but I did nothing that was unsafe or unwise – or at least, nothing that you were not willing to do as well.”

True enough, Jim had to allow – but that wasn’t the point.  Meanwhile, Spock had turned, averting his eyes so that he was facing the wall instead of Jim.  “Also, I would greatly appreciate it if you would cover yourself – and if you would please face the wall while I change garments myself.”

“Fine, Spock.”  Jim turned to face the wall, and pulled the long, flowing robe – which truly was unbelievably soft and silky – over his head before removing his pants and underwear from beneath the garment.  “Though I don’t know what it is about my body you find so distasteful.”

_Wait, what?_

_Where the fuck had **that** come from?_   Because God knew that Jim had had no intention of having said that – even if he _had_ thought it.  Now he was cringing inwardly at the thought of what Spock was going to say, because he’d just sounded completely needy, and pathetic, and… _gah_.

“On the contrary, Jim, I must assure you that I do not find your body distasteful in any way.  Indeed, I find everything about your physical presence to be extremely esthetically pleasing.”

 It was Spock’s turn now to look shocked ; when Jim whipped around in astonishment at Spock’s utterly unexpected reply, he was somewhat surprised to see his normally staid first officer beginning to blush a most unusual – appealing, but unusual – shade of green.

“I think I see what’s happening here, Spock,” Jim said reassuringly.

“Yes, Captain – the Waamini is beginning to have an effect upon us both.”  Spock looked, if it were possible, even more miserably uncomfortable than he had before.

And it’s pretty clear that this Waamini shit is going to have me telling you any number of those before we’re out of this mess.”

 _I **knew** there was going to be trouble, didn’t I?  That James T. Kirk sixth sense – it’s damn near infallible._

“Agreed, Captain.  I believe that our working relationship – and our friendship – are both strong enough to endure any unintentional truths we may end up telling one another under the influence of an alien substance.”

Spock sounded relieved at their agreement – and Jim certainly was, as well.  If Spock said they wouldn’t worry about it, then they wouldn’t.

“Because I can always trust you, Spock.  Even when there’s nobody else, I know I always have you.”

 _Fuck._   This really was going to be an evening of true confessions.

They finished dressing in silence – as much out of fear of what they might let slip as for any other reason – turning to face one another only when they were fully clothed in the Tuhuman ceremonial garments.  Jim found himself thinking that Spock looked absolutely amazing in that charcoal gray – it complemented the pale green of his skin and the dark brown of his eyes admirably.

 _Stop that shit, Kirk – stop it, **right now**._   It seemed as though the Waamini had affected not only his words, but even his thoughts.  _Damn it all to hell, anyway._

All the same, he found himself wondering what Spock was thinking as he regarded Jim with such single-minded intensity.  _Probably best not to know_ , he concluded.

“You’re looking unusually thoughtful, Commander,” his mouth went rattling right on, without his permission and against his better judgment.  “My grandma used to say, ‘a penny for your thoughts.’  I don’t have a penny, though, so I guess I’m in no position to make the offer.”

“No one on Earth has used coins as currency in centuries, Captain – so it would stand to reason that you would not, in fact, possess a penny.  However, I was simply… intrigued to note that somehow, the Tuhuma were able to find a garment for you that matches the shade of your irises exactly.  I do not know whether it was intentional on their part, but it is… fascinating.”

 _Well, I’ll be damned – Spock’s as bad off as I am._   Jim was amazed and aghast at the same time.  _Now, please God, don’t let me go out there in front of Kiofalme and all her children – and, holy shit, my crew – and start crushing on my first officer._

Jim rubbed his face hard with both hands, as if to scrub that last thought from his mind.

But of course, as such thoughts always do, it stayed firmly in place.  Because, dammit, there it was – he had a mammoth crush on Spock.

_And seriously – when the hell did **that** start?  _

_But please, Lord – just help me not make a total fool of myself.  I’ll never live it down if I do – because even if Spock lets it go, there’s no fucking **way** the rest of them are ever going to forget about it._

“This could get pretty uncomfortable, Spock.”  Kirk didn’t even want to think about some of the things he might end up saying – if for no other reason than that those thoughts seemed just now to go straight from his brain right out of his mouth.

Spock nodded briefly.  “I understand completely, Captain; however, I think that rather than becoming distressed by the possibility of what might happen over the course of the evening, we must concentrate instead on our pact not to allow ourselves to become overly perturbed by what we say to one another while under the influence of the Waamini.”

At that moment, the door opened again –  there was a muted buzz of activity outside in the corridor that hadn’t been there before, and Iniwa stood there with an unmistakably worried look on his face. 

“My sincerest apologies on behalf of my mother and all of the Tuhuma,” he began, “but we regret that we must cancel the activities we had planned for the evening.  We have already sent the remainder of your crew back to your vessel, and will send you as well as soon as it is safe to do so.”

“Safe?”  Both Kirk and Spock repeated that word at once – then Spock gestured to Jim to go on.  “What’s going on, Iniwa?”

“We are not entirely sure, Captain.  We believe that we have detected enemy activity not far from where you originally landed – and we have reason to suspect that the activity level raised by your arrival might have alerted the Kuchu as to the location of my mother’s compound.”

 At Jim’s suddenly concerned expression, he continued rapidly.  “No, Captain – we do not believe that you brought the Kuchu here purposely.  We are not even entirely sure whether it is a full force of the Kuchu that is among us now, or just a small raiding party.  In times past, our mother told us that Wivukatili – the leader of the Kuchu and her one-time consort – would come alone in order to try to overthrow Kiofalme and take sole control of all the inhabitants of Siri Prime.”

Iniwa regarded them both solemnly.  “He has never brought his army – which, according to our mother, is composed of many of our brothers whom Wivukatili kidnapped and stole from our family when our mother removed him from power many years ago.  However, we are concerned now that if he has indeed found us, perhaps he is taking this opportunity to stage a full-scale attack upon us.”

Kirk felt his head starting to spin – and he was unsure whether it was confusion, adrenaline, or the increasing effects of the drug he had recently taken.  “Wait, Iniwa – you’re telling me that the leader of the Kuchu is your father?”

Iniwa bristled.  “We choose not to think of Wivukatili in that way, Captain.  He is – he is an embarrassment to all of us, and particularly to his sons among the Tuhuma.  Many of us have waited years for the opportunity to defeat him in battle – or, if not, to have the privilege of dying in defense of Kiofalme our mother.” 

His gaze focused on some point in the indeterminate distance, a resolute expression on his handsome face.  “Hiding is shameful, and not for the strong, or the brave.”

After a brief pause, he returned his attention to the two Starfleet officers.  “At this time, Captain, it is not safe for us to take you or the commander back out into the chamber – which is the only place nearby in which your transporter technology would be effective.  Therefore, I am sorry to tell you that we will have to ask you to stay here until there is no longer a risk of you being attacked by the Kuchu – which will happen either when we determine that the threat from the Kuchu is not valid, or when the battle has ended.”

Walking over to a small alcove in the corner of the room, Iniwa brought out a large cloth bag.  “In here, should it become necessary, are provisions that will be sufficient for your needs for some time.  Meanwhile, I will leave you – and I will seal this door in such a way that no enemy will be aware of its presence.  You will be entirely safe from anyone who might invade the compound.”

Spock articulated Jim’s unspoken question.  “If you seal the door, then how will we leave the room?”

Iniwa looked somewhat uncomfortable.  “You will not be able to do so.”

“That’s simply not acceptable,” Jim said flatly.  “First of all, we can fight alongside you if need be – we’re not only well-trained, but exceptionally well-armed.  Having Spock and me on your side would be an asset, not a liability, if you have to fight.”  He glared up at Iniwa.  “And you said yourself that hiding is shameful – why would you ask us to hide, when we’re ready to come to your defense?”

“Please know that your willingness to fight alongside us is much appreciated, Captain.  But you must understand that we cannot accept the offer – first, because you are guests, and second, because you are strangers.  We cannot, I regret, entirely trust you to be effective allies – as much as I personally believe you would be.”

He gestured with long blue fingers toward the empty bottle that still sat near them on the table.  “Moreover, you have both just taken the Waamini.  It has not happened yet, but soon it will begin to affect you – not only mentally but physically.  You will not be harmed – but soon you will also not be in any condition to fight, believe me.”

Jim felt an unaccustomed panic rising like a bubble in his chest.  “You said, ‘when the battle has ended.’  What if – what if the battle ends, and you’re not victorious?  Will we be sealed in here forever?”

Iniwa’s silently averted gaze was his answer, and Jim felt his stomach turn.

“Will we be able to communicate with our ship?”  Spock’s voice was still calm – though Jim recognized the tension in his voice.

“I would allow you to do so, Commander, if the signal would not draw attention to our location.  We have reason to believe that it has been your communications technology that has enabled the Kuchu to find us after what has been centuries of invisibility – and we cannot, therefore, allow you to use your devices any further at this time.” 

“What do you mean, you can’t allow us to use them?”  Jim knew he was shouting; he didn’t care.

“They have been temporarily disabled; we have blocked your signals until our own safety is no longer threatened by their use.” 

 Iniwa’s tone held finality.  “I have spoken enough, now.  You need know no more until such a time as I return for you.”  Without another word, he was gone – and this time, the door did not close behind him, but rather vanished completely, leaving only a blank wall.


	3. In Which James T. Kirk Discovers a Teachable Moment

After Iniwa had gone, the sudden silence seemed to take on a life of its own; neither Jim nor Spock seemed willing to break it for a long moment.

“So, Spock – any ideas as to how we get ourselves out of here?”

Jim was thankful that the Tuhuma did manage to have bodies most of the time – otherwise, things like clothes, food, and furniture would have been pretty hard to come by, and their captivity would have become really uncomfortable in addition to being just inconvenient as hell.




“At this time, Captain, I have yet to come up with any useful ideas.”  Spock was looking more – well, _ruffled_ , for lack of a better term – than usual.  “And I suspect that Iniwa’s warning to us was accurate, and that the Waamini will begin to have a more pronounced effect upon us both shortly.  I do not know if you are experiencing such difficulties at this time, but I find that I am having a great deal more trouble concentrating clearly on our current situation.  My thoughts, as the human turn of phrase goes, are wandering – and it is disconcertingly difficult to maintain my desired train of thought.”

It was a moment before Jim realized that Spock had stopped speaking; he’d found himself, embarrassingly enough, focusing on the way Spock’s lips shaped his words as he spoke and listening to the low rumble of his voice.

 _What. The. FUCK?_  

Jim shook his head hard as if to clear the mental cobwebs – and the lingering image of Spock’s way-too-attractive mouth – but to no avail.  His mental filter was totally gone – _damn the Waamini, damn Iniwa, damn Kiofalme and damn each one of the Tuhuma individually and as a group_.  He listened to himself in detached horror as his mouth went rattling on without having previously consulted his brain.

“Your thoughts are wandering, are they, Spock?”  Good Lord – Jim heard himself using his “I have every intention of getting lucky tonight” voice.

_Please, please don’t let Spock pick up on that…_

“Where have they been wandering, Commander?  Anywhere good?”  At this point, Jim was ready to rip out his own vocal cords – or to knock himself unconscious – or _anything_   just to shut himself the fuck up.  Not, of course, that he was going to be able to do that.  Damn all of it, anyway.

Spock had moved as far across the small room as possible, and seemed to be battling some unseen force as he answered.  “Believe me, Captain,” he said in a strained voice, “you do not wish for me to tell you the nature of my wandering thoughts.”

Forget “ruffled” – Spock looked almost lost.  It hit Jim all at once that as freaked out as he was with this onslaught of emotional honesty, it had to be so much worse for Spock – because at least Jim was used to dealing with emotions, even if he wasn’t particularly good at it.  Spock had next to no practice with this  -- poor guy.

“I’m sorry, Spock.  This has got to be awful for you, and I can’t be making it better.”  Jim crossed the room and sat next to Spock where he sat, almost huddled, in a corner of the room.  He moved to put a friendly hand on Spock’s shoulder, and was taken aback when Spock shook the hand off as though it burned him.

“Captain.  You have forgotten…”

Sorry.”  Jim slid down the wall then to sit near – _not touching, just near_ – Spock, keeping his hands strictly to himself, clasped across his knees.




“No apology is necessary, Jim.”  Spock sighed then – he never sighs, Jim thought – and abject misery was written clearly upon his face.

“It’s getting worse, though, isn’t it?”  Jim knew he was finding it harder to think clearly, to function effectively – and figured it had to be that way for Spock, too.  “I guess that blue bastard Iniwa was right – we wouldn’t be too effective as fighters right about now.”

“Agreed.”  Spock was staring off into the distance.  “I wish we had some idea as to the full effects of the Waamini – and how long those effects could be expected to last.  It is most … disconcerting not to have full control of one’s mental faculties, and not to know when that control will return.”

“I get it.  But I’d have to assume it wouldn’t be too long-lasting, would you think?  I mean, I got the impression it was just for the duration of the dinner, and maybe a while afterwards.”

“Realizing, of course, that we had no idea whether the ‘dinner’ would last for a matter of hours or a matter of days – we were simply never informed, and did not have nearly enough prior knowledge of the Tuhuma to do research about their customs.”

“True.”  Jim sighed resignedly.  “I hope Uhura got to spend some quality time with them, and that she got some good linguistic stuff to take back to her buddies back home.”  If he was looking for a bright side, at least most of the landing team had made it back to the _Enterprise_ safe and sound, if Iniwa was to be believed.

“Fortunately, the remainder of our landing party was able to return safely to the ship.”  Spock said exactly what Jim had been thinking, and he found himself laughing at that not-nearly-so-unusual occurrence.

“What about my statement did you find amusing, Jim?”  Spock looked downright baffled.

“What you just said – I was just thinking the exact same thing.  And you do that all the time – it’s like you’re inside my head or something.”  Jim found himself smiling at Spock’s confused expression – and then found himself feeling something a lot like confusion himself as that expression changed into something entirely different that Jim had never seen on Spock’s face before.

“I would wish, Jim,” Spock murmured, almost wistfully, “that I could be ‘inside your head’ at times.”  Jim could tell by Spock’s suddenly mortified expression that he’d just had one of those “oh, fuck, my filter is entirely gone” moments as well.

Then it hit him, all of a sudden – whether it was realization, or drugs, or just raging hormones, there was no telling – but suddenly, Jim simply _knew_ what was going on between the two of them.  He wasn’t sure exactly how it was going to end up – but he knew with a sudden blinding certainty precisely what he wanted, and he was pretty sure he knew what Spock wanted, too.

“You _can_ be inside my head if you want, Spock.” 

He could barely hear his own words – they weren’t much more than a whisper – but he knew that Spock certainly had by the way those huge brown eyes got even wider as they stared into his own.  “I mean, I know you and I avoid that whole melding thing after what went on between me and – you know, older you – down on Delta Vega, but… well.  If you wanted to do that – if it’d make you feel better – I don’t have a problem with it.”  He smiled wryly.  “After all, mind meld or not, I’m betting that by the end of this little escapade, I won’t have any secrets from you at all.”

Spock was almost gaping at him, speechless for a long moment.  “Jim – I do not believe that you are in any condition to make such an offer, as much as I appreciate your intentions.  Moreover, I do not think that a mind meld would be entirely safe considering the instability of both of our minds at this time.” 

Jim could tell that Spock had uttered those words with an effort – his long-fingered, graceful right hand was twitching on his kneecap, and it looked for all the world as though it was all Spock could do not to raise that hand to Jim’s face. 

Leaning slightly closer, Jim placed his own hand on top of Spock’s ; he started violently yet again, but this time, as Jim had hoped, he did not jerk away from the contact.  Instead, he stared silently at Jim with an almost painfully intense expression in those beautiful dark eyes.

“It doesn’t have to be a meld for you to know what I’m thinking, and you know that as well as I do.” 

He leaned closer still, until their faces were near enough that they could feel one another’s breath.  “In fact, I think you know what I’m thinking right now.”

Then even that last little distance was gone, as Jim threw caution to the wind, moving closer still and covered Spock’s soft mouth with his own in a long, tender – and surprisingly chaste – kiss.   He was amazed to discover that those full, warm lips were even more wonderful to kiss than he’d thought – and that was saying something.

He pulled away after a few moments, just far enough to see if he could gauge Spock’s reaction; with a sudden sick drop of fear in his stomach, he hoped he hadn’t overstepped his bounds, or that he’d been wishfully thinking that Spock had wanted that kiss as badly as he had.

The fear, it turned out, was entirely unwarranted – which Jim learned in the best possible way as Spock launched himself forward to resume the kiss.  And this time – oh, this time was just so much better, because there wasn’t any doubt that they both wanted it.

Wanted more than that, Jim noted with a fierce spike of pure lust as Spock, without breaking the increasingly fierce kiss, rolled them both onto the floor, pinning Jim under his own weight.  Two things became clear quickly – Vulcans are heavier than they look, and Spock…

… _Damn_.  Spock was every bit as aroused as Jim, as evidenced by the hardness that pressed against his own aching erection.  This was just weird, Jim found himself thinking in some remote corner of his mind; he wasn’t used to having a hard on in an outfit that was more like a nightgown than anything else.  He didn’t have anything on underneath, and it all felt… well, weird.

Until the sudden realization hit – _neithe_ r of them had anything on under these Tuhuman robes of theirs – and as if it had a mind of its own, Jim’s hand had scrabbled down to the hem of Spock’s robe, rucking it up so that he could reach underneath  and feel that glorious hardness for himself.

Spock’s sharp intake of breath made him temporarily break the kiss -- but a second later, that hot, amazing Vulcan mouth had latched onto Jim’s neck, and he was biting and sucking at the spot at the base of Jim’s throat where he could feel his pulse hammering frantically.  Without thinking, he squeezed Spock’s impressively large cock harder still -- and he couldn’t have told you who moaned louder at that moment.  It was urgent, and savage, and just so, so _hot_ that Jim could barely stand it.

For a second, Jim had been ready to reach up and pull him back down, but then the expression on Spock’s face changed his mind; he looked confused, distressed…




… _Miserable_.  Jim stopped cold as well, removing his hand from Spock’s body and quickly pushing the silky gray robe back down over his legs.

“Spock?”  He whispered quietly into the elegantly pointed ear that was still so close.  “What is it?  Are you all right?”  God, he hoped so; he hoped he hadn’t ruined everything by deciding out of nowhere that he needed to jump Spock.  He hoped Spock wasn’t disgusted with him, didn’t hate him…

“… _Jim_.  It is not what you are thinking.”  Spock’s words were whispered as well, but held an urgency that surprised Jim and reassured him at the same time.  He’d forgotten for a moment that Spock really could tell what he was thinking -- or at least to some extent -- just by touch.  And yeah, they were still touching -- though not nearly as much as they had been a minute ago.

Strong Vulcan arms tightened around Jim again.  “I could never hate you -- you could never disgust me.”

“But, then… what’s the matter?”

Spock closed his eyes, dropping his forehead onto Jim’s shoulder in what looked a great deal like embarrassment.  “I… Jim, I have never been in a situation like this before.”

Jim knew that laughing wasn’t the way to handle this -- but he couldn’t help the snort of amusement.  “Sealed into a room and doped up with some kind of crazy alien truth serum?  I’d say most people haven’t been in this situation, Spock.”

“I do not find this amusing, Jim.”  He raised his head just long enough to look reprovingly at his captain before burying his face back into the curve of Jim’s neck.  “As I said, this is a new experience for me, and although I find it… exceedingly pleasant, I find that I do not know how to proceed.”

There -- that made all kinds of sense.  “Spock,” Jim said reassuringly, “it’s not like there’s an instruction manual, or any set way of doing, well, any of this.  You don’t have to know what to do -- sometimes you just have to let go and let things happen the way they’re going to happen.”

“I… I do not understand.”

“I know you don’t.  And I don’t know how well I’ll be able to explain.”  Spock had been raised on a planet where pretty much everything really _did_ come with an instruction manual -- so of course he didn’t understand.  Jim could sympathize -- but more than anything, he was feeling a rush of relief that somehow, he hadn’t been responsible for fucking things up between the two of them, because…

_Well, shit._

“You probably ought to know this before we go on, Spock.”  For once in the middle of this God-awful mess, he was glad of the influence of the Waamini -- or else this would have been a nearly impossible admission.

“See, it’s like this -- yeah, I think you’re beautiful, and desirable, and just generally amazing.  But more than that -- way, _way_ more than that -- I love you.  I don’t think I ever really even admitted it to myself, but God, I’ve loved you for ages -- for so long that I don’t think I could even tell you when I started, honestly.” 

Jim closed his eyes and drew a long, deep breath.  He could hardly believe he’d actually said it; that wasn’t something he ever said to anyone, not ever.  Now he felt suddenly as though he had to keep talking to fill the silence, just in case Spock felt somehow obligated to say it back -- though with the whole “truth serum” thing they had going on, Jim wasn’t sure how that would work. 

“Anyway, that’s why it’s okay if you don’t know how the whole physical thing is supposed to go between us -- it’s okay because I’ll take care of you, and I’ll show you how to take care of me.  And then you’ll know.”

Spock had raised his head again, and was looking at Jim as though somehow he had never seen him before.  His hand went up toward Jim’s face, and for a moment, he thought that Spock might initiate a meld.  Instead, he gently smoothed back Jim’s hair, then trailed his fingertips down the side of Jim’s face in the tenderest of caresses.

“You love me.”  The whispered words were a statement and a question, all at once -- and the expression of wonder on Spock’s face was something Jim wanted never to forget.

“I do, yeah.  I love you.”  He’d managed to say it once -- so why not say it again? 

He wasn’t really sure why he was holding his breath, now -- but he couldn’t help it.

“Jim.”  Spock wasn’t smiling -- not really -- but he looked happier than Jim could ever recall seeing him look.  He looked _beautiful_ \-- and if anyone wanted to argue with him and say that a man couldn’t be beautiful, then they’d simply never seen Spock, that’s all.

Then Spock spoke, and  Jim stopped thinking altogether.  “I love you, also, Jim.” 

With those words, Jim let that pent-up breath out on a soft, disbelieving laugh.  “No way,” he said -- though it was clear from the expression on Spock’s face that he was utterly sincere.

“You know that Vulcans do not lie.”  Now -- amazingly -- he really did smile, and Jim had never experienced anything like that in his life.  “A Vulcan under the influence of truth serum must be considered even more reliably honest -- would you not agree?”

Jim laughed again.  “I guess I’d have to agree with that.”  Without thinking, he reached up and stroked a silky strand of Spock’s hair that had fallen, albeit ever so slightly, out of place.

“You love me.”  He echoed Spock unconsciously -- and he wouldn’t have any way of knowing that it was the same wonder that made him look up at Spock as though he were somehow lit from within.

Spock replied by leaning down, bringing their faces close together.  “I do,” he whispered against Jim’s lips.  “And I trust you, Jim, to show me how, as you say, to take care of you.  It is,” he murmured, pausing to kiss the curve of Jim’s ear, “my greatest wish.”

To Spock’s surprise, he realized that Jim was shaking with mirth beneath him.  “What have I said now to amuse you?”  He could not decide whether he felt more confused or affronted -- but he had hardly expected to be met with laughter at a moment like this.

“I was just wondering,” Jim said, gesturing between the two of them with a laugh, “if Iniwa knew this part was coming.  Because if he did, then he was really damn smart to insist that we shouldn’t come and fight alongside them.”

“We would have been… singularly ineffective.”  Jim was correct, Spock allowed -- there was some measure of amusement in their current situation.

“Now we just have to hope there wasn’t really a threat -- or that the Tuhuma are able to fight for themselves,” Jim said, slightly more soberly.  “Otherwise, we might be in here for a while.”

“Once the effects of the Waamini have subsided, Jim, I have no doubt that we will be able to think of a way to extricate ourselves from this situation.”  Spock truly did believe this to be the case -- though he was well aware that in their current condition, neither of them had the mental capacity to find a way out of the room.

Not, he had to admit to himself, that either of them truly wished to do so at this time.

“In the meantime, Spock,” Jim murmured in a delicious, sensual purr that sent shivers up Spock’s spine, “I believe I owe you some lessons in… in all kinds of things.”  In a quick move that took Spock by surprise, he rolled them both over so that now Spock lay pinned under Jim’s warm weight.

Jim’s tongue lightly caressed the exquisitely sensitive tip of Spock’s ear, and he closed his eyes on a wave of pure pleasure.  The last coherent words that either of them spoke for a long, long time were Jim’s:  “I bet you’re an excellent student.”


	4. In Which Dr. Leonard McCoy Becomes More Involved Than He'd Care To

“It’s about time you woke up -- I was starting to wonder if those damn feathered freaks had poisoned you both, after all.”

Spock had opened his eyes to the harsh lights that could only belong to one place -- Sickbay aboard the _Enterprise_ \-- and was immediately overwhelmed with confusion.

“Why am I here?”  Searching his memories, he could not come up with any reason why he would have been ill or injured.  He had -- yes, they had indeed gone down to the surface of Siri Prime, and had encountered some of the inhabitants.  There had to have been more than that, but, infuriatingly, he could not remember.

Looking around, he noted that McCoy stood alone at his bedside -- and he felt a sudden sharp spike of anxiety.  If Jim were well, he would have been standing next to the doctor, waiting for him to awaken -- he always was, any time Spock was injured or ill.

“The captain -- where is Jim?”  He struggled to sit up in the bed before being defeated by an unanticipated wave of dizziness, and McCoy’s strong hands guiding him back down again.

McCoy patted Spock’s shoulder absently.  “I wouldn’t worry too much; as far as I can tell, he’s all right.  You two were out cold when the Tuhuma sent you back up to the ship -- and I don’t mind telling you that I was pretty relieved to see you wake up.  Tells me that it’s probably just a matter of time before Jim does, as well; you know as well as I do that he always takes longer to come out of stuff like that than most people.”

“They… the Tuhuma sent us back?”  Spock shook his head.  “Forgive me, Doctor, but I find that my memory of our visit to Siri Prime is badly compromised.”

“Figures,” McCoy said briefly.  “They doped you both up pretty well -- the blue fella who brought you back felt real bad that it seemed to have a lot more of an effect on you two than it does on most of their visitors.  Some kind of truth serum, evidently -- they gave it to you and Jim, but nobody else.” 

He went on conversationally, all the while examining the readouts from Spock’s biobed minutely. “’Course, we had everybody else from the landing party back nineteen hours before we were able to get to you -- I think Sulu was ready to aim phasers on the whole goddamn planet to make them give you two back.”

This was really almost more than he could process in his current condition, but Spock had questions that needed answers.  “Why was our return delayed?”

“Turns out they were having their version of a world war down there -- only it turned out to be the war that wasn’t, when it came down to it.”

“Explain, please.”

“Well, as far as I can tell, everybody down there has the same mother -- same father, too, but it sounds like he was kind of a son of a bitch.  He was the one who’d been trying to attack all those years ago -- guess they live forever, or something like it -- and he took a bunch of the kids to turn ‘em into an army.  Meanwhile, the mom took the rest of the kids, and they went into hiding -- though it was hiding in plain sight, from what Chekov said.  Not that I could really understand him, the way he went rattling on…”

 _“Doctor.”_   Spock knew he sounded as frustrated as he felt.

“Oh, yeah.  Sorry.  Anyway -- when the Federation started to contact the Tuhuma, the new signals alerted the dad to where they’d been hiding, and he figured that was the time to make his move and take over the planet.” 

McCoy shook his head bemusedly.  “What this guy hadn’t counted on was that his ‘great fighting machine’ wasn’t, so much.  I mean, yeah, they were trained and all -- but once they saw their brothers, and their sisters, and their mom who they hadn’t seen for centuries, they dropped their weapons and just flat refused to fight.  All of ‘em -- both sides -- ended up banding together to capture the dad; they sent him into exile on some God-forsaken outpost planet, and now they’re all back together again -- one big happy family.” 

He turned to check another array of instruments before continuing.  “Not often you hear of a war getting settled in such a sensible way, do you?  This sounds like a bunch the Federation could learn from -- hope they pay attention.”

“Indeed,” Spock replied absently.  He had stopped paying attention to the doctor, his mind whirling with partially-formed thoughts and unanswered questions.

“How long have we been back aboard the ship?”

“Let’s see…” McCoy looked at a chart, then over at the chronometer between his bed and Jim’s.  “Thirty-two hours, twenty-six minutes… and change.  You don’t really need to know the seconds, do you?”

Spock was stunned.  More than an entire day lost -- and next to no memory of what had happened in the day before his extended period of unconsciousness had begun.

“This ‘truth serum’ that we were given by Tuhuma -- I do not understand.”  Spock could not imagine having taken such a thing, or having allowed Jim to take it; somehow, it must have been forced upon them.

“The fella who came back with you both -- Iniwa, his name was.  Nice guy -- kinda unnerving, how damn _blue_ he was, but that’s just me.”

_“Doctor.”_

“Right.  Anyway, he told me that y’all were told that drinking the potion was required of you as leaders -- and you couldn’t go to their big ceremonial dinner without it.  Said you went over it with the tricorder for a long time before you’d let Jim near it -- and then you drank most of it yourself to keep Jim from gettin’ too much of it.” 

The doctor looked at Spock with grudging approval.  “You couldn’t have done any different, not once the instruments told you it wasn’t dangerous.  It was part of the mission; there wasn’t any avoiding it.  You did the best you could when it came to takin’ care of Jim -- couldn’t have done it any better myself.” 

He patted Spock’s shoulder again -- leaving Spock to wonder if the doctor recalled how very little Vulcans appreciated being touched.

“Are we still orbiting Siri Prime?”

“We sure are,” the doctor confirmed, “and now that the threat of war is over, we’re their welcome guests.  Been sending down a few landing parties to see the place -- haven’t been down myself, of course, since I’ve been here with you two, but I hear it’s gorgeous.  Chekov’s afraid that Sulu will get all wrapped up in studying the plants down there and forget to come back to the ship.”  He chuckled at himself.  “Like we’d ever see the day that Sulu would forget to come back to Chekov.  That’d be about as likely as Jim forgetting to come back to you.”

Spock had turned his head so quickly toward the doctor that he found himself briefly dizzy again.  “Yet again, Doctor, I do not understand.”

That earned him the first full-fledged glower he had seen from Dr. McCoy since he had awakened. 

“Of course you don’t,” he grumbled exasperatedly. “ And I’m damned if I’m explaining it to either of you.”

Spock was left to contemplate McCoy’s words, knowing that any further questions he had would now likely go unanswered.

“Oh, before I forget,” the doctor said suddenly, rummaging in a small bag near the foot of the bed, “that fella Iniwa left you something  -- said you should keep it as… wait.  What did he say?  He said you should wear it in good health, and keep it to remember your time with them.  Nice enough souvenir, I suppose.”  He pulled a length of silky dark-gray material from the bag, handing it to Spock -- then yanking it quickly out of his hand again after a few seconds.

“What the hell did they put into this thing?”  McCoy was irate.  “You no sooner touched this than your readings went berserk -- what are they trying to pull, here?”

“No, Doctor.  It is not as it seems.”  Spock’s eyes were squeezed shut, and he seemed to be fighting harder than ever to regain his equilibrium.

“Fine, then what the hell is it?”  McCoy demanded.

“He gave the garment to me to remember my time with them. “  He sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over suddenly weary eyes.  “Once I touched it… suddenly, I remembered.”

“And you wish you hadn’t.”  It was a statement and a question, all at once.

“I honestly do not know what I wish, Doctor.”

~o0o~

After an hour or so of observation, McCoy was willing to release Spock from Sickbay -- “as long,” he insisted, “as you go straight to your quarters and lie down, or meditate, or whatever you do to calm the hell down.”

It would, Spock realized, take a good deal more than meditation to calm himself -- and he scarcely knew whether calming himself would even be possible.

It had all come back in a rush of memory, sensation, and emotion -- Jim had said he loved him.  He had kissed him, caressed him, and shown him pleasure in ways he would never have dreamed possible.  Just the thought of Jim’s mouth as he had trailed hot, wet kisses down his chest and stomach before taking…

 _Stop, Spock.  Stop, now._   Jim had yet to awaken from the Waamini -- and once he did, it was highly unlikely that he would remember their time on the planet’s surface.  Before he had left Sickbay, he noticed that Jim’s blue robe was still in the bag at the foot of his bed; without really knowing why, he had taken it with him.

Did he not wish for Jim to remember?  After all, the Waamini, though it had temporarily destroyed their inhibitions, still caused them to reveal their deepest feelings -- and Jim had said he loved him.  He had told him repeatedly, and then had shown him in every way possible -- and there was no reason for Spock to disbelieve him.

Moreover, Spock had told Jim he loved him -- did he not wish for Jim to remember that? 

Rolling over onto his stomach, he buried his face in his pillow and tried to sleep -- though he knew there was a very high likelihood that he would not succeed.

Vulcans, it turned out, do occasionally dream after all.  And daydream.  And -- as Spock learned to his enduring discomfort -- fantasize.

It was another nineteen hours before Jim finally awakened.  McCoy, stopping by Spock’s quarters to examine him yet again, assured Spock that Jim had not suffered adverse effects from the Waamini, other than the slight disorientation that he himself had experienced.

“I sent him to his quarters to get his bearings -- don’t know how long that’ll take.  When he’s cleared for duty again, I’ll let you know.”  He looked at Spock, long and searchingly.  “And I know you took the other robe -- which I’d bet money was Jim’s, wasn’t it?” 

Spock’s downcast eyes were answer enough, and McCoy sighed gustily.  “Don’t know what you’re afraid of, Spock.  I don’t know what the hell happened down there -- don’t want to, frankly -- but I know the two of you well enough to know that you’re both good men.  You wouldn’t have done anything down there that you needed to be ashamed of.”

He waited for Spock to look up to meet his eyes again.  “I also know the two of you well enough to know what kind of truth you two might have told one another when you didn’t have any choice.” 

Spock opened his mouth to reply, to argue, to… he did not know what he would have said when the doctor raised a preemptive hand to stop him.

“I’ve been Jim Kirk’s best friend for enough years now that there are things I know.  And one of the things I know is that although he’d die sooner than make you uncomfortable by admitting it, he’s in love with you.  And I’m sure as hell not your best friend -- God forbid -- but it doesn’t take a particularly perceptive person to figure out that your whole ‘unemotional Vulcan’ act goes right out the window when it comes to Jim.”  He sighed yet again.  “Can’t fool me -- and I don’t rightly know why you seem so anxious to fool yourself.”

He had turned to leave the room when a flash of blue in Spock’s closet caught his eye.  “You can’t even leave Jim’s robe out of your sight, can you?”  McCoy shook his head bemusedly.  “Y’know, Spock, there’s no shame in being happy if you can.  Hell, it’s right there -- _he’s_ right there.  Just be happy, Spock.  It’s not that hard.”

Perhaps not -- but it seemed easier still to avoid the confrontation he knew was coming with Jim.

By dint of carefully monitoring Jim’s location aboard the Enterprise, Spock managed to be where Jim was not for 30.6 hours before Jim called him on his communicator.

“Spock here.”

“And exactly where would _here_ be, Spock?  Because try as I might to find you, I haven’t seen hide nor hair of you since we were on Siri Prime -- and you know damn well we need to debrief after that away mission.”  He could not tell from Jim’s disembodied voice whether he was angry, or upset, or simply confused -- but it was plain that he was not happy.

“I am currently on Observation Deck Three, Captain.”  He had spent a good deal of time there over the past few days;  there was very little to do in terms of real work as they continued to orbit the planet, and Spock had found his quarters to be too confining.  He found some slight measure of respite from his rushing thoughts up here in the near-darkness, watching the cool black of the sky punctuated with the vivid sparkle of stars and the bright smudges of faraway galaxies.

“So I see.”  Somehow -- had he turned off his own location device? -- Jim had managed to come up behind Spock without warning.  But even without turning around, Spock could feel Jim’s presence -- the smell that was fresh and uniquely Jim, the vibrant energy that seemed to fill any space that Jim entered.

He did not know how much longer he would be able to fight these feelings that compelled him toward Jim -- and he truly did not understand why he felt it necessary to try. 

Spock turned, then, to face a toweringly angry Captain James T. Kirk.

“Explain your actions, Commander.  You’ve intentionally avoided me for days, and I want to know why.”

Spock was grateful that the Waamini was well out of his system.  “I believed, Captain, that you required rest after your ordeal on Siri Prime, and --”

“Bullshit,” Jim spat.

“I beg your pardon, Captain?”

“You heard me.  I said, bullshit!  Try again, Commander -- and see if you can’t do the truth this time.”  Spock was startled to see a stricken look flicker across Jim’s face.  “Or is the truth just too damn distasteful?”

“Jim?”  Spock was lost, now -- something was wrong, and he had no idea what it was.

“Bones said you forgot what happened down there -- that it took you holding the Tuhuman robe again for you to remember it, and that you freaked out but good once you got the memories back.  That you made off with my robe, thinking I’d need it to remember as well.” 

Spock nodded, unsure of how to reply.

“Well, surprise, Spock.  I remembered it all, right away, soon as I opened my eyes.  Remembered telling you I loved you -- remembered hearing it back -- remembered… hell, you know what I remembered.  Woke up by myself in Sickbay to find out that the man who’d said he loved me wasn’t there waiting for me to wake up -- that instead, he’d run in the other direction as fast as he could.  That he couldn’t bear to be anywhere near me.”

Spock felt a cold dread creep through him -- he had been a coward, and had been afraid to face what he and Jim had shared.  Now, he had hurt Jim deeply, and made him think that somehow he was not loved.

“You mistake my motives, Jim.”

Jim’s voice was cold in response.  “Do I?”

“Has it ever occurred to you that you are, in fact, far braver than I?”

“No.  Not ever.”

“I find myself thinking of what Iniwa said to us at one point:  ‘Hiding is shameful, and not for the strong, or the brave.’  And yet I hid from you, Jim -- and I caused you pain, and for that I am ashamed.”

The anger had left Jim’s face, leaving only a vulnerability that very few people ever saw there; Spock knew only that he wanted that look to go away.

“Jim?”

Silence.

“I can only ask you to forgive me; do you think that is possible?”

He shrugged.  “I don’t know why not,” Jim replied quietly.  “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.”

“And yet you do not understand,” Spock went on, frustrated at his own inability to express himself.

“Understand what, Spock?”  Jim still looked as though he were waiting for something awful to happen -- and that simply could not continue.

“Understand this.”  Without further thought, Spock seized Jim by the shoulders and swung him around so that he was pinned against the Plexiglas of the window.  “Understand that now that I have you, and I have your love, I will not do without them ever again.”  He leaned down then, claiming Jim’s mouth in a kiss of  fierce possession.

Jim froze, stunned for a brief moment, before responding to the kiss with a low moan into Spock’s mouth that made him feel as though his very blood were on fire.  Before long, the fierce clash of teeth and tongues had turned into a frantic ripping away of clothes as the two wrestled one another for dominance, first against the window and then, moments later, on the floor.

Much later, they lay sweaty and tangled together on the floor of Observation Deck Three, with only the sound of their gradually quieting breathing breaking the silence.  Spock was only beginning to wonder about prosaic details such as where the various pieces of their uniforms had gone; after all, they would eventually have to leave the deck, and it would be unseemly for them to do so in their current state.

At just that moment, they both heard the beeping of a code being entered at the door.

“Did you not use your Captain’s code to lock the door?”  Spock was fairly sure Jim had done so -- though his concentration had been focused elsewhere at the time.

“Yup -- it’s Bones.  Medical override.”  Jim blushed slightly -- endearingly, Spock thought -- at the prospect of McCoy walking in on them like this.  Best friend or not, it was going to be really awkward.

“Great -- what the hell are we going to tell him?”

Spock leaned down to kiss Jim’s lips once more with infinite tenderness. 

“We tell him, _ashayam_ , the only thing that is required -- the truth.”


End file.
